


rest of their bones

by blackberrychai



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Battle of Gronder, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Divine Pulse Angst (Fire Emblem), F/M, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Linear Narrative, Porn With Plot, Smut, Verdant Wind route, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25871110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackberrychai/pseuds/blackberrychai
Summary: “What did you mean?” Felix asked, standing in the opening of Byleth’s tent.She looked up from her papers, startled. “What did I mean by what?” she asked.“When you said that he kills me. What did you mean?”
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth, Past Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 84





	rest of their bones

**Author's Note:**

> Playing the Gronder battle in Verdant Wind with my recruited Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain gave me... many feelings. Here’s some angst about Felix and Dimitri and death, and also some smut just for good measure.
> 
> Also, I haven’t written anything explicit in, uh, a very long time, so please go easy on me!  
> Title taken from John Donne’s Holy Sonnet 10

“What did you mean?” Felix asked, standing in the opening of Byleth’s tent.

She looked up from her papers, startled. “What did I mean by what?” she asked.

“When you said that he kills me. What did you mean?”

* * *

Sylvain had been the first of them to defect to the Golden Deer. He’d done it easily, barely thinking anything of it, despite Ingrid’s indignation, and Dimitri’s quiet disappointment. This new professor, barely older than them, so unlike the flirting servants and village girls that were Sylvain’s usual fare, had something that was nonetheless entrancing and irresistible. Sylvain had laughed it off, saying “Just imagine those legs wrapped around you.” Ingrid had punched him for it, but Felix could tell there was a true fascination lurking behind his usual façade.

And much as he’d wanted to deny it, he couldn’t help but admit to himself it was a fascination he shared. Though Sylvain’s interest was carnal, Felix was caught above all by their new professor’s power. Byleth’s smooth, blank expression, the sheer gracefulness of her movements, and above all the way she fought – face implacable, sword unstoppable – were all impossible to look away from. When he’d eventually given in and suggested to her that he might learn from her, she invited him into her class with a small smile that somehow thrilled through him, and for the first time he found himself thinking, so this is what Sylvain is chasing.

All these years later, Felix wondered night after night after night: was that his great moment of betrayal?

* * *

For all that he’d seen what was lurking under Dimitri’s genteel façade so many years ago, Felix had not quite expected… this. Not even a shred of pretence left, just the unbridled rage of an uncrowned king. Hair overgrown and matted, cloak filthy, and apparently missing an eye, even from a distance Felix could tell this was his old friend sunk deep into the madness and bloodlust that had once just lurked under the surface.

He’d known this was a possibility, heard all the rumours that had circled for years about Dimitri’s survival, but he had not dared believe them. He hadn’t dared to acknowledge that somewhere inside himself, there was a spark of hope that Dimitri lived, could return, could again become the boy he’d known. And though part of him wanted to sag in relief at Dimitri’s survival, this version of him was not anything he could rejoice at.

Though the Kingdom army held back at first, as Felix and the others fought their way forwards to the platform on the hill at the centre of the field, it became clear that they intended undiscriminating violence. Under the banner of House Blaiddyd, they swept straight towards the flank of the Alliance, reinforcements appearing out of the forest to flank them. Claude’s wyvern swept overhead, shouting that they should not engage unless they attacked, but Felix stared at the approaching force and knew that would not be an option. Dimitri rushed at its head, Areadbhar in his hands. And then the edges of the armies met, and Felix watched from the edge of the platform as Dimitri began to cut a bloody swathe through their troops.

His breath froze in his chest, and then he found himself hurtling down the hill towards the oncoming surge. He usually avoided giving orders, but he now found himself snapping them out without even really considering it, ordering the Alliance forces around him to keep advancing, keep their sights on the Imperial army, try to outpace the destruction coming up behind them. And then he ran in the opposite direction, straight towards his former prince.

Felix cast around for Sylvain or Ingrid as he raced towards Dimitri, looking for someone to join him in this strange despair he felt growing in his chest, but they had been sent north of the river and were far too far away. The Alliance troops were following his orders, all of them rushing away as best they could, only a few remaining to guard their backs if pressed to. Once off the hill, Dimitri was harder to make out, but Felix cut through the ragged front edges of his country’s army anyway, heading to where he had last seen him.

There were enough bodies around now to make him retch. His tolerance for blood had been forcefully increased in the last few years, and he had killed Imperial troops without flinching, but this – this was different. It was so unnecessary, these two forces with a common enemy, fighting each other nonetheless, and at their heart a mad king who didn’t care who was hurt.

When Felix reached Dimitri, he was pulling Areadbhar out of a soldier in alliance colours. Up close, Felix could see that his hair was matted, and the only expression on his face was a savage snarl.

“Boar!” he yelled out. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Dimitri looked up, and his face twisted. “I’m going, Glenn, I’m on my way to her. I will give you her head, I swear it.”

Something in Felix’s chest wrenched. “I’m not Glenn,” he snarled.

The shadow of something pleading left Dimitri’s face immediately “Felix,” he said grimly. “Even the traitors are here. You will not stop me from getting to Edelgard.”

“I’m not trying to stop you!” Felix shouted . “I want her dead as much as you. But there’s no reason for you to kill Alliance troops.”

Dimitri bared his teeth. “If you are in my way, then I shall not hesitate to kill you too.”

Before he could say anything, Felix felt a hand close around his elbow, and a cool voice spoke instead. “He’s not in your way, Dimitri. Go.”

Felix turned in indignation to find Byleth standing next to him, pulling him away from Dimitri. “What the fuck are you doing?” he bit out.

“Stopping him killing you,” Byleth said.

“He won’t kill me,” Felix scoffed, pulling his arm out of her grip. “He’s killing our men, he has to be stopped.”

“Felix,” she said, as he started to turn away. “Felix, no.”

There was a desperation in her voice that he’d never heard before, and it stopped him in his tracks. “I have to stop him, Byleth. Someone has to get through to him.”

“You can’t,” she said, and something in her voice broke a little. “You can’t stop him, Felix, all that happens is he kills you.”

He turned back to her in disbelief. “I told you, that won’t happen.”

Her face was more pained than he’d ever seen it, and she reached out to grip his arm again. “You’re wrong,” she said. “He kills you, Felix, you can’t go after him.”

Felix glanced over his shoulder. Left alone, Dimitri was now running towards the Empire forces, but there were more Alliance troops in front of him. “I have to,” Felix said, pushing the catch in his throat down sternly. “Out of everyone here, he’s my responsibility. I have to stop him.”

Byleth tightened her grip on his arm, and when he turned back to her her face was set. “Felix, you cannot go after him. This is an order, not a request.”

He felt his face tighten. “You are the commander of the Alliance forces. Don’t forget that I’m from Faerghus. That is my king.”

“I don’t care,” she bit back. “Go south, catch up with Marianne. I will follow Dimitri, get everyone out of the way.”

“I can do that—” Felix protested, but Byleth cut him off.

“No,” she insisted, face set. “He kills you. Now just go.”

* * *

The last time they’d all been here, on Gronder Field, Ingrid still stood at her king’s side. The forces of the Blue Lions were so serious in comparison to the laughter of Claude and Hilda, and even Ignatz and Marianne’s quiet faces carried hints of smiles. And still, despite their levity, Edelgard and Dimitri’s stolid ranks had been no match for them. The blond half of their mismatched childhood quartet were left outclassed in the face of the professor’s expertise.

It was that, in the end, that convinced Ingrid. While her devotion to Dimitri and her duty was endless, she saw in Byleth something else — a way to actually achieve her dreams, a way to gain the kind of skill that might force her father to admit that perhaps her place in the world really was as a knight. At the feast after the battle, the four of them had sat together uneasily, and Ingrid had joked that someone ought to go with Sylvain and Felix just to keep an eye on them. Dimitri had known as well as anyone what she meant, though. He had conceded Ingrid’s point with an awkward grace that had infuriated Felix. Beneath that, Dimitri was sad, and so angry, to be abandoned like this, but the boar would not admit that, drawing his false civility tightly around himself. So they just told each other later, the three of them ensconced in the Golden Deer classroom, that it was fine – it was just classes, after all.

* * *

In her tent, Byleth put down her stack of papers and turned to Felix. “I meant that he would kill you.”

“But you didn’t say that. Not he will kill you, he _does_ kill you. How were you so sure?”

Byleth rubbed a hand over her face, and suddenly looked more tired and vulnerable than she had throughout this entire war. “Come inside, Felix. Sit down,” she said.

Cautiously, Felix stepped inside the small tent, letting the flap fall shut behind him. There was no space for chairs in here, so he just sat down on the bedroll. Byleth was sat on a small chest pushed up against the canvas wall, her head in her hands.

Raising her head, she gave him a cautious look, then pushed her hair away from her face, and seemed to come to a decision. “I haven’t told anyone this,” she said, a note of warning in her voice. “Not even Claude, and he knows more about me than anyone else at this point.”

Felix ignored the flash of jealousy he felt at that, and just nodded back.

“Do you remember,” she asked quietly, “When Rhea proclaimed I had received a blessing from the goddess?”

Startled, Felix replied, “Yes?”

She dropped her hands and smiled anxiously at him. “That wasn’t quite true. It would be more accurate to say that I... merged with the goddess.”

Felix’s mouth fell open. “You what?”

Byleth gave a single huff of laughter. “I know. But it’s true. She used to... be inside my head, I suppose, until we were forced to merge.” She shook her head slightly. “But that’s not the point. The point is, as a result of having her with me, I have various... powers.”

“You have powers,” Felix repeated dryly.

“I can turn back time.”

“What the _fuck_ , Byleth,” he blurted out.

She tilted her head at him. “It's strange,” she said thoughtfully, "Actually telling someone else this. You're the first."

Something warm shot through Felix’s chest, but he pushed it aside. “You can turn back time,” he said again.

“Yes,” Byleth said, entirely serious. “I usually only do it in battle.” His face must have been full of his shock and disbelief, and she added, “I can prove it to you. Think of something I couldn’t possibly know, then tell me, then I’ll go back to now and tell you what it is.”

Felix opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. His mind went blank and he stopped in thought. And then Byleth shook her head before he could even get a word out. “Here you go.” She raised her eyebrows. “You and Dimitri were involved for a while after the tragedy of Duscur.”

He choked. “What the fuck,” he said again. He coughed, then looked at her again. She didn’t seem upset, though there was surprisingly something he couldn’t read in her face. For all she was said to be so unreactive, he’d never had much trouble understanding what she was thinking. “What possessed me to pick that to tell you?” he wondered aloud.

She shrugged. “I suppose Dimitri is on your mind,” she said. “But that’s not the point. Do you believe me?”

Felix just looked at her for a moment, open-mouthed. It seemed undeniable, though. Nobody had known about him and Dimitri, not even Sylvain or Ingrid. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I believe you.”

Byleth’s face went grim. “Then believe me when I tell you that he would have killed you.”

* * *

After the fall of Garreg Mach, they’d all fled back to their own corners of Faerghus. Felix and Sylvain had lost the others in the chaos that the monastery had become in the face of the Imperial army. Felix had hated it with every bitter breath that he forced into his lungs, but they had fled. There was no other word for it, no pleasant euphemism – they had seen how people were falling, and they had fled desperately. They had homes and people depending on them, so they trekked north in grim silence. When they made it to Galatea, they found Ingrid and her pegasus had made it there ahead of them. She told them with eyes tense with concern that she’d seen Dedue, who had pulled Dimitri out of the fray and told her that they were going to journey to Fhirdiad. None of them spoke of how Dimitri had been since Edelgard’s revelations. Despite the temptation to rub in what he’d been telling them for years, Felix found he had no stomach to find satisfaction in this version of Dimitri, who had been so obviously unravelling in front of them.

Despite all that had been lost in the battle, and all that might still be lost, Felix found himself only fixated on one thing. Byleth had apparently disappeared completely, and when he ran out of work and training to do each day, Felix found himself lying in bed staring at the ceiling cursing himself for having left, wishing he’d stayed to search for her. He received a letter from Claude saying that he had done exactly that, and found nothing – no sign, no trace, beyond reports of her falling into a chasm in the cracked land, beaten dry by the boots of soldiers.

And so he forced himself to prepare to spend the next few months with his father and Ingrid and Sylvain, bolstering their territories’ defences, and rallying all the troops they could. The war had not truly reached them yet, but they all knew it would. The former Blue Lions filled their letters with the minutiae of their war preparations, but Felix refused to write to Dimitri. Ingrid and Sylvain did, though they got no response, and each in their way begged Felix to write as well – Ingrid outright, Sylvain with the veiled hints that were as close as he ever got to truly asking for the things that really mattered to him. Dimitri did not reply. 

* * *

“How,” Felix asked blankly. “After everything, how? I knew what he was, but I didn’t — I didn’t think he would—”

Byleth was suddenly sitting beside him on the bedroll, a hand on his arm. “He wasn’t sane, Felix. There was nothing you could have done.”

“There was,” he choked out. “If I hadn’t left. If I’d managed to convince people of what I knew years ago. Somebody could have stopped him, even if it wasn’t me.”

She remained quiet for a moment. “I may be able to turn back time,” she said, “But only a short way. I don’t know why things happen. Maybe you could have stopped him—”

Felix let out a gasp of air, almost a sob. “No, listen,” Byleth insisted. “I don’t know what you could have done. But I do know, if you had tried to stop him there, on that battlefield, you would have died. I went back so many times, and unless I stopped you, you always went over to him, and you always died.”

He turned to look at her, and her expression was strained. “Why did you even keep trying?” he said grimly.

Byleth just looked strangely sad at that. “I watched you die. I couldn’t let it happen.”

“Oh,” he said blankly, and her hand tightened on his arm.

“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice as close as it ever got to sharp, then sighed.

“Goddess, what am I doing,” she muttered, and stood up abruptly.

Felix looked up at her, baffled. “What don’t I understand?”

She paced as much as she could in the small space, then stopped and looked at him, her face its usual blank mask again. “Did you love him?” she asked softly.

“Dimitri?” Felix asked, surprised.

She nodded. He sighed, and ran a hand over his hair. “I don’t know. We were only fifteen. I felt like he was all I had left, with my brother dead and my father being... well, my father. And then...”

Byleth sighed as well. “And then you saw what he was hiding?”

“Yes. I knew that there was something wrong, but I hadn’t realised that it was so... comprehensive. That everything he pretended to be, the boy I kissed in the training grounds, was just a front for something so,” he cast around for a way to describe the way Dimitri had looked, so young and yet smeared with blood, his eyes wild. “So savage,” he finished.

She sat back down beside him. “I understand,” she said, then lapsed into silence.

Felix stared at the tent wall. It was strange to realise that Dimitri was gone, well and truly now, but at the same time, he’d done his mourning long ago. He’d lost him twice now, once to madness, and once to presumed death, and at this point a third felt more like resolution than anything else, as terrible as that was. And now he let himself think about it properly, there was no reason to be so shocked Dimitri would attack him. It had been years since he should have stopped being shocked by him, and it was just the last vestiges of childhood fondness that had let him ever believe Dimitri would even hesitate to kill him if he did the wrong thing.

Byleth’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. “Do you still love him?” she asked.

“What?” Felix said, surprised by the question. “Well.” He sighed, and rubbed at his temples. “He’s gone. He was gone a long time ago. I… I still love who he once was, I suppose. He was my…” He swallowed against the crack in his voice. “He was my friend.”

“Oh,” she said, and turned her face away.

“Why?” he asked, but she didn’t reply. “Byleth?” he said, and reached out to touch her arm.

She flinched at his touch, but turned to look at him again. “I think you can tell why.” There was something in her eyes he couldn’t quite read.

“I don’t,” Felix said. His mind was still circling what he had seen of Dimitri on the battlefield, remembering the wild look in his eyes, how he had called him Glenn. Even if he had loved him once, he didn’t think he could have quite brought himself to any more.

“Felix,” she said. “I watched you die today. I watched you die _eight times_ , and it could happen again, and I might not be there to stop it, to change it.”

“It’s a war,” he replied dully. “We’re all always about to die.”

She sighed. “Yes. That isn’t my point, though.”

“What is?” he asked.

Pausing for a moment, Byleth’s voice was quiet when she spoke again. “My point is,” she said, then stopped, and reached out to place a hand on Felix’s. “Can you answer my question properly? Do you still love him?”

“No,” Felix said slowly. “Byleth, I don’t understand—”

She turned her face to his then, and there was was something burning in her expression. Her hand tightened on his, and he stopped. “Oh,” he said.

“Felix,” she said softly, desperation in her voice, and his eyes dropped to her lips.

“Byleth,” he murmured back.

Her grip was like iron on his hand, but then she suddenly let go, and stood up again. “I’m sorry,” she said with her back to him. “This is a bad time. You’re grieving, and I shouldn’t—”

“I’m not grieving,” Felix found himself saying, though it was at least half a lie, and then he was on his feet, reaching his hand out to turn her back to face him. “Byleth.”

* * *

And then Ingrid had appeared unannounced in Fraldarius, her face streaked with tears, carrying the news that Dimitri was dead.

Ostensibly, she came to bring a letter for Rodrigue from her father to ask for support against Cornelia’s new Faerghus dukedom, but only she told the duke the news in a shaking voice, passed over the letter, and then disappeared to their small training grounds, Felix for once the one following limply behind. She had picked up a sword, and let him beat her for round after round after round, until she sat exhausted in a corner, breathing too heavily to cry.

“What do we do now?” she had asked.

Felix had stared blankly at the stone wall above her head. “We fight,” he had replied, though he wasn’t sure if he was saying it because it was the only response he knew how to give.

The two of them rode north to Gautier soon after. Sylvain’s delighted grin at their arrival fell quickly off his face, but he returned south with them without even being asked. Cornelia quickly grew tired of the insolence of those who still opposed her, and the three of them went to war. Charon territory fell into chaos first, as its lord tried to claim neutrality. All he got for it were lands overrun with soldiers, and half his fields destroyed by fighting.

When he gave in to Cornelia, Ingrid lead them grimly back to Galatea. 

“I’m going to write to Claude,” Sylvain said decidedly.

* * *

She turned to face him again, and suddenly she was so close. Felix had never really registered Byleth’s height before, since she always had such presence, and she was such a formidable fighter, but this close he realised she was significantly shorter than him. Her face was tilted up to him, but some of her hair still fell forward over it. He reached up, hesitant, waiting for her to pull away from his hand, but she didn’t. So he gently pushed the hair back behind her ear. His hand lingered there, touching her hair with the tips of his fingers, but his palm hovered just above her cheek.

Felix could hardly breathe, frozen there with her, almost but not quite touching. He watched her lips part just slightly in surprise, and then she sighed and leaned her face into his hand so he cupped her cheek. She inhaled roughly, and her eyes fixed themselves on his.

“I’m not good at this,” she said. He didn’t know how to respond to that, and just stroked his thumb gently against her cheekbone. His other hand came up almost without thought, and rested against her back.

“Say something,” she murmured, her eyes dropping to his lips.

“What should I say,” he asked, barely thinking about the words he was saying, just the feeling of her rough sleep shirt under his hand, and the warmth of her skin underneath it.

“Anything,” she breathed.

“Byleth,” he said. “Byleth, please.” And then her lips were on his, and he forgot to breath. She had always been a person to throw herself head-first into physical confrontations, and he found she was no different here. Her arms went from hanging at her sides to winding round him, holding him to her, and when one of his hands buried itself in her hair, she followed suit, tugging out the tie holding it back. Her lips were warm against his, and she kissed with a single-minded intensity.

When they broke apart again after a breathless moment, Felix rested his forehead against hers and panted. She held him there for a moment, then brought her hands up to the ties at the neck of his loose linen shirt. “Is this ok?” she asked.

“Yes,” he gasped, and fastened his hands on her hips to pull her into another bruising kiss. The slowness of their conversation was gone, and they clutched at each other with reckless intensity. Felix worked his hands up under her shirt as she pulled his own open, splaying them against her back to pull her against him. When he worked one around her side to stroke at her breast, she moaned into his mouth, and snaked a hand around him to sneak under the waistband of his trousers. She rubbed small circles into his hip with her fingers, gradually increasing their size so she dipped lower and lower, until he gasped, stopping his slow progress towards her nipple to pull frantically at her shirt.

Byleth broke their kiss for long enough to let Felix pull it over her head, and with her breasts bared he immediately bent to take a nipple into his mouth.

“Oh,” she said in surprise, as he hooked his hands underneath her thighs and lifted her against him to get better access. “Sit on the chest,” she managed to say, and Felix grunted his approval and fumbled to sit without removing his mouth from her. She straddled him, then leaned back away from him, pulling herself away from his mouth.

He let out a sound that was almost a whine, which deepened into a groan as she pulled his shirt off too, and started to work at the fastenings of his trousers. As he threw his head back, she moved her mouth to his neck to leave biting kisses all along his collarbones.

When he decided she had been fumbling at his trousers with clumsy fingers for too long, he brushed her hands away impatiently to bury his face against her cleavage again. His hands came up to grasp her waist as he sucked bruises along the curve of her breast, then licked teasingly at her nipple. She wriggled in his lap at that, and tugged at his hair until he gave in and grazed the nipple with his teeth so she gasped out a moan.

“Byleth,” he said again into her skin, and she threaded her fingers into his hair in response.

“Come on,” she said, “Come down here.”

She tore herself away from him, and went to lay down on her bedroll. She smiled up at him, her hair a mess and lips swollen, and brought one hand up to brush against her own breasts. Felix let out a shuddering sigh, and stood up from the chest.

“Wait,” she added. “ Take off your boots.”

Though he had changed from his usual clothes to a light undershirt before coming to see her, he was still wearing his customary long boots and trousers. She watched him unashamedly as he bent to remove the boots, sliding them down the lengths of his muscled thighs.

“The trousers too,” she added when he tossed his boots into a corner. 

Felix seemed to be about to protest, but then something teasing came over his face. He undid the lacings of his trousers slowly, his eyes fixed on hers. When they were undone, he lowered them slowly, pushing them down his legs so he stood just in his undershorts. Then he trailed his fingers down the hard line visible through the fabric, never looking away from Byleth.

She was on her feet again in an instant, pushing away his hand and the shorts to grasp him firmly. He let out an involuntary moan, and bucked his hips into her hand, before pulling away to discard his clothes fully and take her place lying on the bedroll, gazing up at her.

“Your turn,” he said, his eyes heavy and tracing the lines of her body. He wrapped his fingers round his cock, and began to stroke himself slowly.

Byleth bit her lip, and kept looking at him, but bent to remove her own trousers and underthings. Fully naked, she walked to stand above him, one hand cupping a breast, and then knelt by his knees. She lowered her head to kiss along his inner thigh, and then licked slowly up the length of his cock until she closed her mouth around the tip.

Felix tipped back his head, and brushed his hands through her hair, and could not restrain the noises that he let out. He let himself indulge in the warmth of her mouth and the press of her tongue, but stopped her before too long, pulling her up the length of his body to kiss her again, one hand finding its way between her legs to slide fingers between her slick folds, thumb searching out the exact place to rub against. She cried out when he found it, pressing herself against his hands, and one finger slid easily inside her.

Reaching one hand underneath her, Byleth pushed away his hand, and positioned herself to press the head of his cock against her.

“Please,” Felix gasped out, as she slowly began to lower herself onto him, then paused after just a moment. “Oh goddess, Byleth.”

When he said her name, she let out a pleased sigh, and sank all the way down onto him. He grasped at her hips, then began to thrust into her slowly, lifting his head to kiss her again. He pulled her down to lay against his torso, burying his face in her neck, and for a moment just relished the feeling of their hips undulating against one another. But it wasn’t enough, not nearly.

“Faster,” she said, her voiced strained. “Felix, more.”

He muttered something she couldn’t make out into her neck, then wrapped one arm around her waist so he could pull her into him. He tore his face from the crook of her shoulder to look up at her again.

“If you want faster,” he said, struggling to keep the roll of his hips slow, “It won’t last very long.”

“Nor will I,” Byleth ground out, and lifted herself away from him just to slam her hips back down. Felix gasped out a moan through gritted teeth, and fumbled a hand in between their bodies as he lost himself in the press of her above him, around him.

He caught one nipple in his mouth, and before long Byleth was shuddering above him. He felt her clench around him, and her fingers tightened in his hair, and then she was falling apart for him, gasping his name into his ear. He clenched his jaw, and continued to thrust into her until he felt her go loose and relaxed above him.

Gently, he lifted her off him, and she scrambled to get her knees under herself. His cock was wet from her, and his hand slid easily over it. Byleth impatiently pushed his fingers away once she had recovered her breath, and with her firm, warm grip, so different to his own, it only took a few more strokes before he was coming all over his stomach and her hand.

As he shuddered out the last of his orgasm, Byleth collapsed beside him, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The only sound in the tent now was both of their laboured breath, and Felix let himself sink into the moment of satisfaction, with Byleth warm against his side.

Eventually, she pushed herself up and reached over him to dig through the chest behind her to find a cloth, which she then used to wipe first at her thighs and hand, then his stomach. Felix laughed when she wrinkled her nose in distaste and folded the cloth up again, shoving it away into a corner of the tent. She lay back down next to him, and pulled the blanket over them both.

“Will you stay?” she asked, voice gentle but without any doubt in it.

“Of course,” Felix replied, and breathed in the scent of her hair.

* * *

After nearly five years of war, Claude had written to all of them. Would they, he asked, honour the promise they’d made to return to the monastery?

Ingrid and Sylvain discussed it at length, debating leaving their homeland now, of all times, against the prospect of a better alliance with Leicester, since Faerghus’s forces alone were in no shape to fight off the Empire forever. When they made up their minds to go, they confronted Felix, prepared to have to cajole him into joining them.

The moment they mentioned it, though, he just said. “I’m going.”

They looked at him in slight shock, and Sylvain laughed in disbelief. “All that planning our arguments, Ingrid, and he agrees just like that.”

Felix scowled back at them. “Of course I’m going. I owe it to Byleth. She would have wanted us to go.”


End file.
